I feel like I’m probably closer to space than I am to Earth at this point.
I feel so disconnected from certain individuals. I don’t understand why I can’t escape this feeling of being burdened and imprisoned by outside energy.
The water is calm where I am. The sun isn’t too hot. I can hear the leaves rustling on the trees and feel the movements of life in the waters surrounding this island. I am probably in a hammock in a bikini with a very adorable cat soaking up the sun. This cat of mine would have a round face, big fluffy paws, and her name is probably going to be Sailor Moon or Mooncake. Or Cupcake. She’s going to be part of my journey when the time comes, and I look forward to meeting her and having her accompany me, sooner than later.
I seek stability, structure, affection, and reassurance—all of these things that I keep putting out. But either my expectations are too high or others’ expectations are too low, and I feel disappointed.
I refuse to believe that the love I hope to acquire one day, the love of my life, doesn’t exist. I ask for simply what I’d give—the love that I put out. I want just that, if not more, and it seems almost unattainable. I’ve made peace with such possibilities, and I’m okay with focusing on just connecting with my inner self, nature, and everything in between. Maybe this is the epitome for me.
The lights on my balcony may not be much and may not cover a lot of space, but they’re on my balcony. People see them, they acknowledge them to themselves, and they’re beautiful. Dimmable. That’s me. I’m a balcony with lights on it. I put out light—not always, but I put out light. I aspire to be remembered, especially for having a reputation for putting out light, no matter how dark or bright it is. It’s consistently on when it needs to be, not necessarily as a reminder, but as an identifier. I am this lighted balcony.
I’m on the balcony, rocking back and forth with two scoops of orange sherbet ice cream in one hand and iced coffee in my pink, Stanley, 30-ounce cup nearby. The day started at 96 degrees, down to 86 degrees in the evening, and the temperature will continue to drop to about 66 degrees by midnight.
That’s when the lights are on and brightest in my home. That’s when I’m awake while the world is asleep. And I’m okay with that because maybe I’m just not made for this world. Maybe in another universe, we can be on the same schedule for once. Just maybe.
I’m going to dim my lights to an all-time low, but when I turn up the brightness, don’t stare and brace yourself because you could be blinded by how bright these lights can get. It’s still dimmable. Only on my command. Unlimited lumens.
Dear Diary, 